Porcelain
by RoxanneAndersonHummel
Summary: Violet though she had escaped the past. She was wrong   *This story takes place before the death of the Harmon family. It is what would have happened if they left*
1. New

Violet Harmon had just moved. She went from living in the Murder House in L.A to a 2 story house in Atlanta. When their car pulled up in front of their new home, Violet felt a sudden rush of relief. She was finally away from the sex-crazed, masochistic, and yet, some caring spirits that roamed the dark halls of 1120 WesterChester Place. The only one that Violet was fond of, was Tate Langdon. A tall, blonde, boy about her age. The two of them were in love and when Violet moved away, Tate was left behind. These spirits were trapped in this house and could never leave. The only day the spirits could go out was on Halloween. The shorter girl missed connecting with her lovers deep brown eyes. Snapping out of her glassy daze, Violet took her brown, tasseled bag from the floor of the car and swung it over her shoulder.

She stepped out of the car and into the humid Atlanta air. Walking to the trunk, she pulled out a black suitcase and dragged it up the concrete stairs. This house was very light, unlike WesterChester. The vibe in this house was safer. Violet never felt safe. As she began to search the house for a new room (Since she was granted first pick), Violet came across a decent sized room. Violet had dibs on this one. The room had a cream shade on its walls and the floor was a light brown wood. To the left of the room there was a large window. Across from her, was another window belonging to her neighbor._ I wonder who lives next to us._ There was a loud bang as she let her suitcase drop to the floor. There was already a lot of furniture in the house from the previous owners. The sales woman had said that the owners had just wanted to start new, leaving all their previous furniture behind, except for some personal belongings.

The furniture left in Violet's room consisted of a black canopy bed, a deep black closet and a black mirror. Luckily, they had brought their old furniture so Violet could add her old stuff. She sighed and picked up her suitcase, throwing it onto the bed. Unpacking around 3 suitcases took up most of her day and it was around 6:30pm by the time she had finished. She was just so happy to finally be there since she had been in the car for approximately 32 hours and 17 minutes.

She had heard footsteps as her mother, Vivian, came in through the door. "Honey, open the window it's very hot in here." Violet disagreed mentally but rolled her eyes and opened the window anyway. "Beautiful choice, Vi." Her mother commented as her eyes wandered around the room. "Thanks" She replied without any emotion. She wasn't happy about leaving her old house. She wanted to be back home with Tate. She felt her mother's eyes burning into her back for a good 5 minutes before she heard her leave. Violet exhaled deeply before shutting her door and walking to her open window.

Violet looked down at her phone to see a picture of her and Tate, she sighed and looked back up, only to be greeted by a pair of eyes. She gasped at the suddenness of the appearance. There was a girl, around maybe 15 or 16, standing at the other window. She had dark brown hair that only reached her shoulders and blue-gray eyes that pierced through Violet. She looked so innocent but in her eyes there was hurt and pain. She looked as if she was longing to be set free from something. She was bony and had almost paper white skin, Violet thought that if someone touched her, she would break into small pieces. _She reminds me of a porcelain doll._

"Hey" Violet started awkwardly. "Hello" the smaller girl replied. "I'm Violet, your new neighbor. What's your name?" She said shifting her weight to her left leg. "Brooklyn. Nice to meet you, Violet" The porcelain girl answered quietly yet loud enough for her voice to carry to the other house. "So where are you from?" "Well I left L.A and came here. I used to live in the uh….Murder House." "Oh so YOU were the family that lived there and survived." "Well I was barely alive going in." Violet joked. Brooklyn laughed. Her laugh was soft and sweet like a song. Her voice was angelic. _This girl is way too perfect_.

When the two of them stopped laughing, Violet and Brooklyn locked eyes for what seemed like eternity. When their eyes broke contact, Violet spoke up. "You look so familiar. Do I know you?" As soon as she ended her question, her cell phone vibrated. It was a text from Tate! She excitedly replied to his message, looking down at her phone. "Only if you've associated with the dead." Brooklyn said, voice quiet yet stern, Violet's heart stopped for a second. She looked up from her phone quickly, only to see that Brooklyn was gone. Violet thought that she had gotten away from this. She was wrong.

* * *

><p>Okay so this was my first AHS fanfic! Should I keep going with it?<p> 


	2. Murder

The color had drained from Violet's face. "It never ends." She mumbled. She pulled the black curtains over the window and turned around. Flipping through the contacts on her phone, Violet found and highlighted 'Tate 3' and pressed send. Violet slid the phone to her ear and waited. After one ring, an angelic voice picked up. "Hey, Vi."  
>"Tate," Violet choked out.<br>"Violet? Violet, what's wrong?" Tate's voice was flooded with concern.  
>"Tate….do you know a girl named Brooklyn?"<br>"Why? How is that relevant, Violet? What's wrong?" His voice getting louder.  
>"She's DEAD, Tate. THAT'S why it's relevant!" Her tone almost matched his.<br>"Who is?"  
>"Brooklyn. My new neighbor. I think she's dead."<br>"Didn't you just get there today, Violet? It was probably just a shadow."  
>"Tate, obviously it was not a shadow. It's dark out. It is a possibility. You're proof of that." Violet exhaled sharply. In her panic, she had walked all the way from her window to her mirror.<br>"It's not worth it. It's probably a mist or something and you're probably tired. Just go to sleep." Tate's voice sounded almost in a panic like Violet's. Violet had taken notice to this.  
>"Tate…..are you….POSITIVE…you don't know her?"<br>"Positive, Violet. Look, I gotta go do stuff."  
>"Do what, Tate? You're dead," she asked, suspiciously.<br>"Stuff. Love you. Bye" With that, Tate was gone. Violet snapped her phone shut and slid it in her pocket. She looked up into the mirror to be greeted with the familiar shape of Brooklyn behind her. With a gasp, Violet spun around and saw nothing. _I need answers. _

Violet grabbed her laptop from under her bed and slid the case off. As she waited for the computer to turn on, Violet thought that this would not necessarily be an easy project to piece together. Or maybe it would. Who knows? As the computer light lit up her face, Violet opened an internet tab and typed in Google. As her fingers worked over the keys, she progressively got more nervous. She first typed in 'Brooklyn murder' the only results were murders IN Brooklyn. That wouldn't help. She typed in any words relevant to the search and no results pleased her. 'Murder, Brooklyn, suicide, Atlanta.' Nothing.

Finally, Violet cleared the search bar and typed in the last thing she wanted to. 'Brooklyn murder Tate Langdon'. Her hands shook as she pressed search. To her dismay, the results showed everything she didn't want to see. The titles on the page read, 'School Shooting Victim Sister Shot' '15 Year Old Girl Shot In ATL' 'Murderer Shoots 15 Year Old Girl In ATL' 'Brooklyn Murder In Atlanta from Los Angeles'. Page after page, Violet read the horrible article titles until she clicked one on the 4th page. The article read:

Fifteen years old, an age when many girls are first beginning life and venturing into a wider, wonderful world, is not a time in life when one would expect a budding life to be cruelly cut short. But this precisely what happened to Brooklyn Stapleton, a 15 year old girl from Atlanta. Brooklyn had just moved from Los Angeles to Atlanta after a tragedy occurred in her family that was too painful for her and her mother to stay in their old home.  
>Stapleton was found shot in her thigh, rib, and chest on April 20th, 1994. The irony of the situation was that soon before her death; her sister was shot in the Westfield High School Massacre. Police say that the murderer of Stapleton was the same one as her older sister, Chloe Stapleton, who was shot in the heart and killed at Westfield. The murderer of the two girls is Tate Langdon, a seventeen year old boy who was under the influence of crystal meth and cocaine when he shot the older Stapleton daughter and fourteen others.<p>

A mystery that still remains to the police is how Langdon got to Atlanta so quickly. "Brooklyn was murdered the night she went to Atlanta. Her mother bought those tickets after the death of the eldest daughter, packed up as much as they could and basically just left. By plane, it takes approximately three hours and fifty two minutes. Stapleton was murdered the night of her arrival. The only possible way is that Langdon bought tickets on the next flight to Atlanta and somehow traced where she was or snuck on the plane with her and followed her." Officer Andrew Gordon of the Atlanta Police Force stated.

Early the next morning, Langdon was shot and killed in his home in Los Angeles.

Violet's mouth was wide open. She didn't even think when she pulled out her cell phone and pressed re-dial. Tate's voice answered. "Hey, Violet. Are you alright?"  
>Violet waited a moment and took a deep breath. "You killed her."<p> 


	3. Piano

The line was silent for what seemed like eternity. Violet held her breath as she waited for her lover to reply. Tate's voice finally rang through,

"What are you talk-"

"DON'T PLAY STUPID WITH ME, TATE. YOU KILLED BROOKLYN STAPLETON!"

Violet screamed into her phone. Thankfully, her parents weren't home to hear her. The deceased boy's voice once again came through Violet's phone. "Brooklyn….Stapleton? Oh God….I remember her…her sister was Chloe. Oh Violet, I am so sorry. I was a different person then. "He waited. "Violet?" He still waited. Violet took a breath in and filled up her lungs, not sure if she would need the extra air to scream at him. "You killed her. I don't care who you are or who you were. You killed her," Her voice was quiet. It was way more menacing to talk quietly then deafen Tate. "Look, I need to go. I'm going to try to….talk to Brooklyn." "Can I expect a call from you later?" There was a short pause. "No." Violet's thumb hit the end button, no longer wanting to hear Tate's voice. She tucked her phone into her back pocket of her jeans and walked out the door of her bedroom. _Great. So I move to try to AVOID the dead, now I'm going to casually stroll over to my neighbor's abandoned house, basically, break in, find the spirit of their dead teenage daughter and tell her my boyfriend killed her. I'm totally sane, Mom and Dad. Don't worry yourselves. Especially you, DOCTOR Ben Harmon, Psychiatrist._

Violet finished her little mental rant and slammed the door to her house. _Shit….I'm pretty sure I just left my key inside…whatever I'll find a window. _The leaves crunched under Violet's old sneakers and she only had to walk so far until she stepped up to her neighbor's home. Looking from the outside, the house was pretty run down. The windows weren't broken but the grass was dead, the brown paint, that at some point was probably white, was chipped and the roof was no longer a roof by any stretch of the imagination. Violet had to force herself to take the steps onto the cracked walkway of 274 Little Street.

_I can't believe I'm really getting myself into this shit again. _Violet walked slowly up to the old door and only had to lightly push on it to gain entrance. Once inside, Violet was shocked. The appearance on the outside was total opposite to the inside. The floors were shining in the sun that flooded through the 'roof' and the windows gleamed. Everything was perfectly intact. She thought the house in itself was lovely, except for the energy that radiated from it and onto Violet. It was sad and painful. Remorseful and heavy. She could tell that there had been suffering in this house.

It was similar to the feeling in 1120 Westerchester Pl, Los Angeles. The place she called home.

Out from the silence, Violet heard a sound. Not a sound meant to scare her but a beautiful sound. It was the sounds of a piano being played. Not badly either, in fact. Violet followed the sound the piano, hoping it would lead her to the girl. It brought her through hallways and upstairs. Violet was soon face to face with a door that was partially open. Quietly, she pushed the door the rest of the way open to be greeted by the source of the music. There was a girl with her back to Violet, playing a beautiful, white piano. Violet stood in the doorway silently, listening and watching. The girl's fingers flew over the keys, magically. The sound was almost like it was off a recording. As the beautiful melody ended, Violet realized she had closed her eyes. "Op. 28, No.15 or more famously known as the Raindrop Prelude by Chopin. Know it?" The girl said. Violet's eyes shot open. "Uh, no…?" She said, almost stupidly. The girl giggled and turned to face Violet. It was Brooklyn. The brown hair, the piercing eyes, her skin. This was Brooklyn Stapleton. Tate's 16th victim.

"Brooklyn Stapleton" Violet said shakily. "That's me." Brooklyn replied, her voice sounded bored but shocked that she knew who she was.

"I'm Violet Harmon. I'm your new neighbor"

"Oh, hi! I think we've met."

"Yes, at my window"

"Right, right."

"Are you dead?" Violet blurted out. _Well that didn't come out the way I wanted it to._ The porcelain girl stared up at Violet for a few moments before she tugged at the hem of her black, Lady Gaga shirt. To Violet's surprise, Brooklyn had pulled off her shirt to reveal two bullet wounds. One in her heart and one in her chest. It was just like the article said. "If that didn't tell you…..yes I'm dead. I also have another wound on-"

"On your thigh" Violet said in mid-sentence. Brooklyn grinned. "I see you've done your research." She said, still grinning. Violet nodded, she was staring at the bullet wounds above and under her black and pink lace bra. Brooklyn smiled and pulled her shirt back over her head, messing up her once perfect hair. Violet snapped out of her daze and decided she should tell Brooklyn about Tate. "Look, Brooklyn um…I need to tell you something…" She started. "Your boyfriend, Tate Langdon killed me…..right?" She shorter girl asked. "Wha- how did you know that?" Her voice was inquisitive. "Next time you get into an argument with your boyfriend, make sure you aren't screaming at the top of your lungs" The ghost laughed as Violet's face reddened.'

After a few awkward moments of silence, Violet spoke up "So how did you learn piano like that?" Brooklyn shifted her weight to her left leg and winced. _Gunshot_. She shifted back to her right leg. "When you've been dead since 1994 and you are trapped in this god damn house, with nothing on TV and a piano, you find stuff to do. I can play any piece you give me." She challenged. "Oh really? Play…Sleep by My Chemical Romance" Violet shot back. Brooklyn smirked and sat down at the piano. She began to play the dark and beautiful song, expertly. The rest of the day continued like this until Violet got a call from none other than the reason that Violet was hanging out with Brooklyn. Tate was calling.


End file.
